


Pieces Into Place

by sukotchi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Everyone Is Good, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Iwaizumi's Dad Is A Good™ Dad, M/M, Makki And Mattsun Are Good™ Friends, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Oikawa Is Immature, Protecc Iwaizumi And Oikawa 2K18, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Takeru Is A Good™ Boy, Tattoos, This Fic Has Too Many Numbers, i guess, i'm sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15751155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sukotchi/pseuds/sukotchi
Summary: Iwaizumi thinks back to the pair he knew, who separated even though they were soulmates. It's been six years, and they're perfectly alright. Iwaizumi's father has even begun seeing the nice lady who runs the restaurant near their house, though he thinks Iwaizumi doesn't know.Are soulmates really important?Iwaizumi doesn't think so.





	Pieces Into Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphire_eyes27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_eyes27/gifts).



> Many, many, manymany _many_ thanks go out to the following people: 
> 
> ☆ [Twxnkdean](http://twxnkdean.tumblr.com/), [Chiyuuki-san](http://chiyuuki-san.tumblr.com/), [Pimentogirl](http://pimentogirl.tumblr.com/), [Mangacomicgirl](http://mangacomicgirl.tumblr.com/), and One (1) Pizza (a v special one) for encouraging me so, so much, gosh I love you people.  
> And also the plotting, kicking my butt when I wasn't writing, helping so muCH?? (I'm still blown away that Twxnk and Pimmy aren't even in the fandom and helped me.) I love y'all ohmygod.  
> (I would go into detail about contributions but I feel like we'd be sitting here all day if I did... Just know that I love all of you _so much_.) I'm sorry for so much spamming while this happened. Thank you for putting up with me. *bows repeatedly*
> 
> ☆ [Shai (Exchange Mod)](http://bubblysage.tumblr.com/) for being such a sweetie, and so kind and nice and AAAAHH for organising and literally everything you did. _Thank you._
> 
> ☆ My giftee, [Lema](http://rolling-blunder.tumblr.com/), for such a lovely prompt, this was literally so much fun to write. You don't know how happy I am to share this finally. *sparkles*
> 
> So... Uh. I'm terrible at intro notes wow this is 16k of utter shit just like me, I hope y'all love it anyway. <3 Except, uh, I'm not 16k?? But yeah this is stupid as heck please don't waste your time reading it you have better things to do. (Like checking out the people I linked psst.)
> 
> This is terrifying and I didn't do final editing. I apologise for any mistakes.

They’re walking back from school, volleyball practice cancelled for the day. Oikawa insisted they stay back for half an hour to practice spiking, and Iwaizumi wishes that someone would spike his captain all the way to the other end of the world.

It’s late afternoon, the sun is still up, bathing the scenery in sleepy shades of orange and yellow. Soon, it will shift into purples and blues as the sun sets, giving way to twilight.

The wind blows through the trees, leaves rustling in its wake. It’s a refreshing breeze, one that Iwaizumi appreciates as it ruffles his hair.

It’s almost autumn, the leaves yellowing. The first of them have started fluttering down to the ground, crunching beneath shoes as people go about their business. Soon, the entire walkway will be littered; dried, brown leaves covering the stones. Winter isn’t far behind.

He hopes Seijoh gets stronger by the time winter arrives. They need to win Spring Preliminaries at any cost. Shiratorizawa has won for far too long, and Iwaizumi is getting tired of the same old game- doing their best and still losing, then crying as they walk off the court. And it’s their  _last year_.

Iwaizumi knows the predicament they’re in. It’s the last time he has the chance to play with Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and the rest of the team. After the Spring High, the only thing that awaits is graduation.

And they’re all going to different colleges.

No more spiking the tosses that Oikawa gives, no more laughing with Makki and Mattsun, no more spending time with his friends…

No more Setter-Oikawa - Ace-Iwaizumi team.

The ground might as well vanish when he thinks about it. And it’s not even the first time he’s thought about it. Because as much as he gets annoyed at the setter; as much as he denies every accusation of him being a  _tsundere_  who actually cares a lot for Oikawa… he’s still Iwaizumi’s best friend. Has been for six years.

He’s trying not to let the depressing thoughts get to him, when Oikawa stops, and Iwaizumi walks right into the setter.

Cursing, he spits out the mouthful of ‘pretty setter’ hair that he’s probably ingested. Schooling his features into an expression of disgust, he speaks, “Why’d you stop, idiot?”

Oikawa huffs, then eyes the ground pointedly. Iwaizumi turns to look at whatever it is, and finds a bunch of scattered leaves. “They look so sad, spread around like that… And they’d be hard to clean.”

And that’s how Iwaizumi spends five minutes watching his captain direct the leaves over to the side with his feet. Is he honestly a child?

Iwaizumi voices the question, and Oikawa regards him quietly. Eventually, when the ace’s glare melts into exasperation, Oikawa speaks, “Iwa-chan,  _you’re_  the one who’s like a little boy.”

“What?”

“ _I_  should be asking you if you’re a child. I’m a fully grown man. An  _attractive_  one at that.”

“Heh, sure. A fully grown man who’s totally not acting childish. Not at all.”

“I’m just being considerate!” Oikawa responds, defensive. A small part of Iwaizumi rejoices at riling him up as much as he usually does the ace. “And anyway, Iwa-chan, you didn’t deny that I’m attractive~”

Iwaizumi bristles. “I never agreed to it either. Who’d call you attractive, you idiot?”

“Iwa-chan, my lovely ace,” Oikawa - the annoying shit - slings an arm around his shoulders and brings him close, “I have tons of female fans professing their love to me. I think it’s safe to say that they all find me attractive. What about you, Iwa-chan, what are you a fan of?  _Godzilla._  You’re the little boy.”

 _What the fuck._  “I don’t  _need_  a fan club.” Iwaizumi pushes the setter away, but he’s not deterred.

“Mhm. You probably could have one if you tried, to be honest. But you  _don’t_  try. You don’t care how you look for yourself, or for others. That’s why you can’t have a fan club like mine.”

Oikawa’s last sentence drips with arrogance, and Iwaizumi takes advantage of their closeness to land a kick on his shin. The setter lets out a pained yelp, hopping on one foot as he rubs at the abused skin.

Curiosity gets the better of him. “What even brought this on?”

Oikawa stops whining and rubbing at his shin, and straightens. He stares at something over Iwaizumi’s head, and then says, “What? You not having a fan club, or you being like an innocent, young boy?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and the setter powers on, “I just think you aren’t aware enough of yourself and your appearance. I mean, this -” and then he’s running his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair, and the spiker is counting the seconds before he punches his stupid,  _stupid_  captain.

He doesn’t get the chance to. Oikawa pulls away before the seconds are up, and he holds up a fist victoriously. “Palm out, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi humours him, and Oikawa lets his fist open, and he looks way too gleeful as something flutters down from his hand to Iwaizumi’s.

The spiker looks down at his outstretched palm. A single leaf rests on it, browning around the edges while its centre gleams a dull green.

“There’s autumn on Iwa-chan’s head.”

He looks satisfied, smiling like it’s the best thing mankind has ever uttered, and Iwaizumi is surprised enough that he can’t even move. The setter skips ahead, chortling all the while.

Iwaizumi is left staring at Oikawa’s back. The setter is very proud of himself at the moment, and the feeling manifests itself clearly, Iwaizumi notes as he watches the skip in his step.

His annoying friend has thrown him into yet another slew of thoughts. A fan club? He doesn’t need something like that. All he needs his team and his friends (stupid setters included), and Seijoh’s victory. And it’s not like people get fan clubs because of just their looks. They need  _talent._  Personality should be taken into account too, but Iwaizumi supposes people clearly don’t care about that, considering  _Oikawa_  has a fan club.

Oikawa: whiny, rude, petty, jealous… And incredibly hard working, and has talent in spades. Maybe he really is deserving of his fans, who scream his name during matches and cry about his looks. He’s not too ugly either, right? Something about the setter is incredibly irresistible to everyone; makes them melt and turn into goo.

Is it the way he carries himself, like he’s second to no one? Or the way he throws a smile to the masses? Iwaizumi knows Oikawa’s expressions, and quite honestly, he prefers the smile that he’d been graced with moments ago, over Oikawa’s camera smile.

Oikawa is attractive. Perhaps he knew this, but he’s never given it any thought. The setter’s personality clearly ruins any effect he should have had on Iwaizumi. His lips curve up into a smirk at the thought. But as an observer, it’s safe to say that Oikawa  _is_  attractive, at least when he smiles. The camera-smile makes him look unattainable, harsh. But the other kind of smile surprisingly makes him look…  _Soft._  It’s  _genuine._

Does Oikawa make people swoon with that gentle, bright smile of his? Does he make them think he hung the moon and the stars in the sky? Is he the siren that reels people in like prey? Do they think he’s  _gorgeous?_

Oikawa, gorgeous?

No way.

It’s a weird thought, and he shakes it off. Oikawa has become quite small in the distance, and Iwaizumi walks just the littlest bit faster.

 

_'When you fall in love, you’re the first person who knows. Sometimes, your soulmate is the second person who finds out; and that’s when you’ve fallen for the right person._

_But you don’t know that till your soulmate tells you themselves, that their timer ticked down to zero at a particular time._

_Romantics like to note the time when they feel that they’re falling in love, and they definitely take note of the time when their timer goes to zero._

_It’s not so easy to find out who your soulmate is, but a little bit of clever questioning, and a little bit of foresight can lead you to the right person._

_The tattoo that gets etched into your skin when your timer goes to zero is a good indicator of who it could be. It documents your lover’s favourite memory with you.’_

Iwaizumi reads through the information again, unconvinced. It sounds too flowery to be trusted, and he goes to another source, hoping to find better results.

 _'The soulmate mark consists of a timer, right from the moment a person takes their first breath. It displays the time left for their soulmate to realise they love them. No one knows how, but the timer is_  never wrong.  _[See end of article.] When a person’s timer ticks to zero, a tattoo gets etched onto their skin next to the timer. It’s a proof of their soulmate’s fondest memory with them._

_Unless you yourself tell someone about your timer going down to zero, no one’s going to find out. It’s the only sort of privacy you get, considering your own love gets delivered to your soulmate once you realise it. You don’t find out who your soulmate is, either, unless you specifically try to ask everyone you know._

_But sometimes even strangers are soulmates. That coffee shop barista who handed you your coffee? She could be your soulmate. The person sitting in front of you while you watched your favourite movie in the theatre? He could be the one._

_There are organisations that aim to make people meet, and try to find out their soulmate through the process of Matching. Matching is the name given to the process of having meetings with various people, according to the time left in their timers. Once you click with someone, you spend more time with them. It’s not 100% effective, but it’s been adopted by people who don’t want to spend their life looking for their true soulmate.’_

There’s more written, but Iwaizumi doesn’t care. He scrolls down completely.

At the bottom of the article, the citation is explained:  _'There’s been no known case of a timer that doesn’t tell the time correctly. If such were the case, then the person shouldn’t_  have  _a soulmate, and there’s no living proof of a person not having a soulmate. Everyone is born with a soulmate, younger or older.’_

There are hyperlinks strewn about the page; he skips them. He doesn’t need more flowery and probably fake information. He closes out of the browser, then leans back in his chair, staring at the screen absently.

He doesn’t care about soulmates, truthfully. He’s always considered it a hindrance; being tied down to a person. He can love someone without being attracted to them for reasons other than a stupid timer.

He doesn’t even want to know about soulmates. He wants to know how to  _prevent_  the ticking of the timer, and the appearance of the tattoo.

He doesn’t want to accidentally be the reason for someone’s timer ticking to zero.

Not that he loves anyone, right now. And even if he falls for someone someday, he’s sure it won’t be because of a stupid timer. He hopes that they don’t love him because of their timer either. The one on his side - a bit under his pectorals - still has tons of digits, that he hasn’t bothered to count.

The last time he saw it was when Oikawa forced him into exposing it. It was towards the end of their second year in junior high, and his idiot friend accosted him while he was changing out of his jersey after volleyball practice. Iwaizumi had been lost in thought, and Oikawa had struck, poking at him with his annoying fingers till Iwaizumi accidentally flashed it right in his face. The digits comprised of six and a whole lot of zeros, and according to the setter, the time was close to sixty-thousand hours. Before, Iwaizumi hadn’t checked his timer for a long time, and he hasn’t checked since then either.

Thinking about the incident makes him wonder how Oikawa’s timer is. He wonders how many hours the setter has, before his soulmate falls in love with him. Maybe never, because who’d love the idiot? He snorts quietly at the thought.

What if he has a million more hours to go? No, that’s not possible. That equals to something over a hundred and ten years, and that’s just not possible. Unless Oikawa becomes a famous figure in history, and some starry eyed child from the next century falls for him.

Something close to seven hundred thousand hours is more accurate, if he remembers correctly. Heck, maybe Oikawa just has  _hundreds_  of hours left. Or minutes. Or seconds, or even  _centiseconds_ , which Iwaizumi learned are the last digits of the timer.

Who knows?

Or maybe… Maybe his timer has already ticked down to zero a long time ago.

What if it’s been that way for a long time, and he never told Iwaizumi? He’s his best friend, for God’s sake. Or is it Issei or Takahiro?

 _'Makki~ Mattsun~!’_  He can imagine the setter’s annoying voice right now, excitedly telling them about the zeros of his timer.

Hell, maybe everyone but Iwaizumi knows.

Somehow,  _somehow_ , Oikawa has managed to get Iwaizumi into a frenzy without even being present there. And now the spiker is curious and anxious and angry at himself for even having these thoughts.

Why does he care if the shitty setter has a soulmate who loves him with all their heart? Why does he care if Oikawa has zeros on his timer and is  _happy_  about them? Why does he care about Oikawa being the reason for someone’s -

Oh, god. What if someone else in the world has a timer with zeros on it  _because of Oikawa?_

Why the  _fuck_  does  _Iwaizumi_  care?

He’s taken back to a few days ago, when Oikawa pulled a leaf out of his hair. It was such a small thing, but not something he’d have expected Oikawa to do. The explanation the setter gave for pushing the leaves away with his foot was also surprising.

Would Oikawa be that thoughtful when it came to his soulmate? Would he treat them kindly, or would he be a whiny, arrogant brat like he is with Iwaizumi? Would he be considerate, or egotistical, living with his head in the clouds while his soulmate scurried around after him?

What kind of person would his soulmate be? Would they complement him, would they be nice, or would they be as rude and shitty - if not more - as Oikawa? What would they do with him, how would they spend time with him?

What if it was someone they already knew? What if it was someone from their school, or even closer; the  _volleyball team_? What if they were like Iwaizumi; short tempered and not up for Oikawa’s nonsense. Would their attitude towards Oikawa change if they knew he was their soulmate?

To be completely honest, Iwaizumi doesn’t expect them to change. If he himself was Oikawa’s soulmate, he wouldn’t put up with his shit. He wouldn’t just completely turn over their relationship and start worshipping the vain setter just because timers ticked to zero and tattoos bloomed on their bodies. That was stupid.

He’d continue to treat him the same way, playing volleyball with him and kicking him when he needed it and maybe giving him a bit of affection at times…

His eyes widen as he realises the thoughts he’d been having, and he stares as the computer screen goes dark with inactivity. He’d been thinking of being Oikawa’s soulmate.

_Oikawa’s soulmate._

Oikawa, his annoying best friend, irritating setter and shitty captain.

He lurches forward in his chair, trembling fingers closing around the mouse and he brings back his desktop, the light too bright and taunting. He finds that he’d accidentally minimised the browser instead of completely closing it, and he clicks on it again, bringing up a new tab.

He doesn’t remember typing, but then he’s reading through another webpage, his eyes running over the words.

 _'Being in love is different from_  true love.  _You can be in love with a person without being their soulmate. It’s sad, but that’s how soulmates are sometimes.’_

He grips the mouse tightly, fingers cold with perspiration. The ground has opened up under him, and it feels like he’s falling into a never-ending chasm.

Because Iwaizumi Hajime is in love with Oikawa Tooru, and they’re probably not soulmates.

 

 

Seijoh loses. He’d hoped till the last second that they’d win, but it doesn’t happen. They lose, and they can’t do anything but watch Shiratorizawa and Karasuno battle it out.

It’s a bit of a consolation to watch Karasuno win, but Iwaizumi can see that Oikawa’s still not satisfied, because  _Kageyama_  is in Karasuno. Nevertheless, he suspects that the setter might actually be proud of his junior. After all, Seijoh didn’t just lose to them just so they could lose to Shiratorizawa.

His head’s been reeling with the thoughts he’s had lately. On one hand, he can’t stop thinking of Oikawa, of how much he wants to be with him. And on the other, he’s stubbornly shoving the feelings down, not willing to be so weak.

Why is he even thinking of this? He’s gone by without being attracted to anyone for so long… Why is he thinking of Oikawa  _now_ , when they’re going to graduate and go off to different colleges, far, far away from each other. It’s stupid; it’s like the universe wants him to pine after someone he’s known for six years, only after their time is ending. He remembers something about aversion to loss and holding on, stupid romantic concepts that he hates.

Oikawa’s words from their last match still ring in his ears, often haunting his dreams.  _'Maybe tomorrow, the day after, or next year… Maybe even when you’re thirty.’_

They sounded so encouraging; for a moment he’d actually entertained the idea of being Oikawa’s soulmate. It was as if the setter had said those words specifically for him - assured him that one day his timer would tick down and Oikawa would love him.

Which was bullshit.

And when Oikawa had pointed at him from across the court, those were the thoughts that struck him at the last moment, making his eyes widen and head spin as he was bombarded with stupid  _feelings_. And he’d spiked the ball easily enough for Sawamura to receive it. The same play had scored Karasuno a point, and Seijoh lost the game.

Regarding Oikawa’s stupidly encouraging words, he’s not even looked at his timer. He doesn’t  _want_  to. It doesn’t matter when he looks at it, the numbers will still be insignificant figures which won’t turn to zero anytime soon.  _Even_  if they were zeros, they wouldn’t be significant. He doesn’t care. Soulmates are a concept created by romance enthusiasts, and Iwaizumi isn’t one of them.

Or maybe it’s his lack of courage, his fear that’s stopping him from looking at it. Realistically, Iwaizumi knows that it  _will_  tick down. If it was sixty-thousand hours four years ago, then in three years’ time, Iwaizumi is going to find his soulmate.

Well, then, why should he bother now?

It’s all extremely stupid, and he vows to himself to forget Oikawa. It’s the only way he can go on. Oikawa wouldn’t love him anyway, and he doesn’t care if they’re not soulmates. But Oikawa  _will_ , he’ll want to be nice about it, even though he’s one of the brattiest people Iwaizumi knows. And Oikawa actually cares about soulmates, and Iwaizumi  _will respect that_.

Even if it breaks him, kills him to be away from his best friend turned love.

And that’s how Iwaizumi Hajime spends the last few months of his high school life, tamping down his feelings, avoiding being too close to his best friend even in his aggression, and counting the days till he’s free and away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kitagawa Daiichi.

The place where Iwaizumi somehow ended up with a friend for life.

He remembers the first few days, when he'd joined the volleyball club. He'd practiced and practiced, days and weeks and months, till the seniors and his coach saw potential. And at the same time, another person had emerged from the sea of first years, made himself known as a formidable opponent, and a spectacular teammate.

Oikawa Tooru. Setter, popular guy, loved by all...

...And an absolute pain in the ass.

Somehow, he'd attached himself to Iwaizumi, claiming that he and the spiker would make a wonderful team. At first, it was a bit disconcerting. It slowly turned into Iwaizumi groaning internally every time the setter appeared. And now he didn't leave him  _alone_.

Even after an entire year and a half, Oikawa is still with Iwaizumi.

And by now, Iwaizumi has actually given up on escaping. He's resigned himself to spending time with the idiot setter. He'll even go so far as to say that he  _enjoys_  his company. Only when they're on the court, though!

"Iwa-chan, hit a nice one!"

Iwaizumi takes it back; Oikawa is annoying  _everywhere_. He aims the ball at the setter, who narrowly dodges it, wailing irritatingly.

Just like their first year, the second passes quickly. It's towards the end of the year, when  _it_  happens.

The incident which changes their lives.

They've just had a practice match, and Iwaizumi is in the locker room, taking out a change of clothes when Oikawa barrels into the room.

He sighs. So much for getting his privacy. Now he's going to have to wait till Oikawa leaves - which is not something he can count on - or find a secluded place.

"Iwa-chan!"

The spiker looks at the setter, eyebrow raised questioningly, and the other boy smiles brightly. "Iwa-chan, it's good that I caught you here. I wanted to ask you things."

Iwaizumi nods slightly, still unsure.

"What did you think of today's match?"

Ah, the one against Chidoriyama.

He ponders for a while, then answers, "They had a good libero. But the team in its entirety wasn't strong enough." He waits for a beat, then, "You played well."

"Right?" Oikawa beams, and Iwaizumi's eye twitches. "Iwa-chan, you analyse so well~!" And he holds his hands out for a hug.

Iwaizumi shuts his locker door, backs up further, and narrowly dodges an annoying setter, who hops past him on one leg, doing a startlingly excellent impersonation of a stork.

The spiker waits for him to crash into the lockers, but Oikawa unfortunately has quick reflexes, and he stops an inch away from them. His face remains undamaged.

"Hey, Iwa-chan! Why didn't you hold me back?! I could have got hurt!"

Iwaizumi snorts. When Oikawa continues pouting, Iwaizumi sighs. "Idiot, you've knocked into much worse things during games. And I don't care if your precious face gets hurt. Your brain is already broken."

"Hey! I have enough brains to make good calls during games, don't you think, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi nods, not answering otherwise. Oikawa keeps prattling on about something, moving to the opposite wall and Iwaizumi seizes his chance.

Pulling off his shirt in a swift motion, he bunches it up. Oikawa's rummaging for something and hasn't turned around yet.

Iwaizumi's got half his head in his shirt when Oikawa turns, and without looking, the spiker aims his old shirt at the setter.

Gross, he knows. So does Oikawa, who starts sputtering, offended. "I- Iwa-chan!"

It's just to buy time, though. He's got the shirt over his pectorals when Oikawa's  _right_  next to him, poking at his side and speaking into his ear, "What does your timer say, Iwa-chan?"

The spiker freezes.

A million responses run through his head, and he settles on, "What? What timer?" A swallow. "I don't know what you're talking about." The lie; so obvious.

Oikawa clicks his tongue. "Come on, Iwa-chan, out with it. Everyone has one."

Iwaizumi tries defending himself, but he's not flexible or slippery enough, and he's backed up against the lockers with Oikawa digging his fingers into the material of his shirt.

Panicked, he throws a punch.

Oikawa's eyes widen, and he ducks, and the guilty part of Iwaizumi is extremely relieved. He opens his mouth to apologise, to say anything, but no words come out.

Bless Oikawa and his easily cheered up self, he smiles at the spiked and says, "No worries, Iwa-chan!"

And he backs off and away like nothing happened, whistling cheerfully and once again talking about the match. Iwaizumi humours him; it's the least he can do.

When they're done, they walk out together. Iwaizumi's a bit subdued, guilt still eating away at him, and when he finally works up the courage to apologise, Oikawa waves it off, grinning.

"Anyway, Iwa-chan, I already saw it when I dodged your punch~!"

Iwaizumi can only stare at him, scandalized.

"It had a six and some zeros, Iwa-chan. I think it said something close to sixty thousand. But you didn't let me see properly so I can't tell you for sure! Maybe if you let me see it again..." he trails off, and Iwaizumi scoffs.

"I don't want to know, idiot."

"Would seeing mine make you feel better?" Oikawa offers, but Iwaizumi shakes his head. "Keep it to yourself."

Silence falls again, but this time it's comfortable one.

"Hey, Iwa-chan, why do you hate soulmates?"

Iwaizumi turns to him, surprised, and replies, "I hate them?"

"Well... that's what it looks like, yeah." Oikawa rubs the back of his head, letting out a nervous giggle.

Iwaizumi ponders over it, wondering what he should say. It's not something he's been asked before, because no one's been close enough to find out. But now that the question has been posed to him, he needs to give a proper answer.

"I guess I do."

"What - why?"

Iwaizumi thinks back to the pair he knew, who separated even though they were  _soulmates_. It's been six years, and they're perfectly alright. Iwaizumi's father has even begun seeing the nice lady who runs the restaurant near their house, though he thinks Iwaizumi doesn't know.

Are soulmates really important?

Iwaizumi doesn't think so.

 

 

Their third year.

Right before the prefectural finals, they go up against Chidoriyama again, this time in an official match.

And they  _lose_.

Kageyama was subbed out for Oikawa, and everyone expected him to make them win. He messed up at the last second, the ball going past him, falling right behind him even as he yelled 'out!' Because it wasn't; he miscalculated.

Everyone applauded their efforts, but Oikawa knows just how much of a fuck up he really is.

He's in the washroom, everyone's already in the bus and ready to leave. He wants to never come out.

Someone knocks on his stall door, and he doesn't respond. When they keep knocking incessantly, he calls out a response, says he's going to be out soon, and wipes at his eyes. There are no tears, nothing of that sort; it's just a reflex.

He comes out.

It's Iwaizumi. Their ace.

Iwaizumi takes one look at his face, and says, "Oikawa..."

He holds up a hand, "No, Iwa-chan. Say nothing."

Somehow, seeing the usually stoic ace so concerned makes something in him break, and what follows is one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

He cries.

Slumping back against the wall, uncaring of hygiene, he lets it out, mouth open, no sound coming out as sobs wrack his body.

And then Iwaizumi's in his face, hand on his shoulder, eyes burning and saying things that are harsh yet soothing. In an urgent tone of voice, he tells Oikawa things he doesn't deserve to hear, but wants to,  _needs_  to.

Then he drags him by the hand to the washbasin, turning on the tap and splashing water onto Oikawa's face. The water is cold, jarring him out of his sobfest.

Oikawa stares up at his reflection in he mirror, eyes puffy and cheeks flushed. But there's an alertness in his eyes that wasn't present earlier.

He feels clear; too focused. But there's something else on his mind now. Not the match, not the lose, not Kageyama or Chidoriyama or their talented libero or  _anything_.

The thing on his mind is actually really inconsequential; it's funny.

Iwaizumi stands behind him, the ace's reflection staring worriedly at him, and Oikawa almost laughs.

He's in love with his best friend.

The same best friend whose timer showed something close to sixty thousand hours when he last saw it. It's barely been a bit over eight months since then.

They're not soulmates. And even though Iwaizumi hates the idea of soulmates, Oikawa does not, and he doesn't want to deprive someone of the amazing person that the spiker is.

Whoever gets Iwaizumi Hajime as their soulmate is the luckiest person on the planet.

Yeah, he's in love with Iwaizumi, but there's nothing he's going to do, because Lord does he respect the fact that they're not soulmates, and never will be. Because there will come a time when Iwaizumi will meet his soulmate, and then he  _will_  lose his hatred for the phenomenon. And anyway, someone out there must be waiting for Oikawa.

Their third year passes in the same way as their first two, and they decide to go to the same high school.

Neither of them find out that Iwaizumi's timer is at zero, droplets of a liquid adorning the numbers.

 

 

* * *

  

 

Iwaizumi scrolls through the screen, cursorily looking through the posts of his friends and ex-teammates.

Seijoh seems to be doing well, Yahaba and Kunimi filling in the positions of captain and vice, executing their duties excellently. He receives updates from Kindaichi at times about all of them, so seeing all of it isn't really a surprise, even though his lip twitches up amusedly when he spies a picture of Kyotani caught unawares with a grinning Watari in the foreground. Seems like the tentative ace is finally adapting to the team.

There's also Takahiro and Issei in one of the pictures. Having stayed in Miyagi for university, they periodically drop by their high school.

Iwaizumi is a bit jealous of them, quite honestly. They're attending the same college, still have all their friends with them, while Iwaizumi sits alone in his dorm room and creepily goes through people's social media accounts like a stalker.

There's an account he would never be caught dead following, and he goes through his ritual of sneakily browsing through it while guilt eats away at him.

Kuroo Tetsurou's account.

Oikawa has enough followers who salivate over him that he wouldn't find out about one lone follower of his called izumi0610, but Iwaizumi is paranoid. (And his handle is extremely obvious, which isn't something he wants to think about.) Which is why he has to resort to using Nekoma's previous captain to get information about Oikawa's whereabouts. Absolutely shameful? Yes. Does Iwaizumi care? No.

Kuroo and Oikawa are attending the same university, and it's a fact that Iwaizumi fully exploits as he goes through the farmer's profile, looking for details about Oikawa.  _It's not stalking. He's just making sure Oikawa's doing fine._

There's a picture with some of their teammates, and Iwaizumi notices Bokuto from Fukurodani. He's a good guy from what Oikawa's told him, but a bit too loud. And he plans to be the  _ace_. The ace, who Oikawa will be setting to, he thinks sourly.

His mood worsens as he spots someone with their arm around Oikawa's shoulders, Seijoh's former setter smiling brightly at the camera. A little voice at the back of his mind points out that it's his camera smile, not his genuine one, and Iwaizumi berates himself for thinking that. It's not like Iwaizumi himself is ever going to be the recipient of that smile again.

Maybe he should give up, stop this practice before it turns to something he'll regret. It's not suspicious if he follows Kuroo Tetsuroo's account - they  _did_  play the same sport in high school and could have crossed paths - but it most definitely will be if he accidentally hits the wrong button and broadcasts his jealousy to the world. That happens with social media, right?

His eyes flit to another picture, one of just Kuroo, Bokuto and Oikawa, and the setter looks ever so handsome, wearing the team jersey, hair windswept and a small smirk playing at his lips. The very epitome of confidence and beauty.

Iwaizumi exhales roughly, closing the browser and tossing away his phone, gritting his teeth when it simply bounces on his bedding and falls, screen facing downward.

It's no one's fault that he's given up on one of the few things that mattered to him, but seeing reminders of it thrust in his face just... really messes with his mind. And he himself sought said reminders, so he has no one to blame but himself.

He'll just stay here, without volleyball, without Seijoh, without teammates, Oikawa, anything. All alone. That's just what he deserves when he runs away from everything that tied him to the setter.

 

 

Practice is in full swing, with his teammates on the court, and Oikawa should be joining them. Instead, he's sitting on the bleachers, huffing as he bounces the ball by his feet, like one would, a basketball.

Kuroo turns to look at him, face devoid of the signature smirk that Oikawa's so used to, and inquires, "What's got you sighing so dramatically?"

Oikawa does exactly that, and denies it. Kuroo's eyes travel to the court, and he continues, "Why don't you join them? I'm sure they'd love to have you setting."

 _Of course._  Of course they'd love it if he was setting, but have they thought of what he loves? It's a rude question, Oikawa knows, so he doesn't voice it.

"You miss your teammates, don't you?"

Oikawa starts at the question, turning to give Kuroo his full attention, praying that he doesn't look like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Because I do too. I miss Kenma and Inuoka and Yaku and everyone. Hell, even Lev with zero brains."

Again, the middle blocker isn't smirking. By now, Oikawa knows that it's not humanly possible for someone to keep being a little (or big?) shit all the time, but he's still never taken Kuroo as someone who could be serious.

Oikawa blurts out, "I miss Iwa-chan."

Kuroo's facial expression doesn't change, but his eyebrows rise the tiniest amount, and Oikawa backtracks, "I- I mean, I miss all of them. But... Iwa-chan always knew what kind of tosses I was going to send. It was easy with him, we played together for six years."

Kuroo nods, mentioning how he's known Kenma for an equally long time, and Oikawa can't stop himself from getting a bit sentimental as he talks about Iwaizumi.

Bokuto, unscrewing the cap of a bottle and chugging down water, grins at him and says, "It's okay, Oikawa-kun, you don't have to feel so bad. Akaashi is the best setter anyone could ask for, but I can accommodate you as well! I can be your ace."

Oikawa doesn't miss a beat, "I don't know, Iwa-chan was the best ace  _I_  could ask for. I don't know if you'll be able to handle me."  _He's_  not going to have problems handling the hyper owl-loving spiker, because he's a  _good_  setter; expected to be able to work with any kind of spiker. Except Kageyama's Chibi-chan, maybe.

Bokuto sputters, whining about rude setters, but Oikawa tunes him out.

 

 

He doesn't belong anymore.

Somewhere down the line, he knew he was only going on for all his friends. The same friends that he's isolated himself from.

Or was it just  _one person?_  One person who made the sun rise and set, made waves crash and flowers bloom? Ugh, stupid, disgusting feelings.

And now that it's all gone... Iwaizumi belongs nowhere.

He filled out the club application form for volleyball on his first day at university. He waited six days, before tearing it up right as he stood outside the club room. He didn't want to play anymore. He didn't want to play a sport that he associated so deeply with Oikawa.

Ever since the match against Chidoriyama - their last match in junior high - he's tried to make sure that whatever match they play, whichever team they're up against, Oikawa has fun. If Oikawa's gone, what reason does Iwaizumi have to keep playing? He doesn't want to go up against him as a rival. Or against Issei, Takahiro.

The other two are enjoying being close to home. Issei got a part-time job at some place, and Iwaizumi sometimes gets updates from him. Their friendship is one where they don't exchange much words, and Iwaizumi is happy it's so. None of his friends have sat him down for a heart-to-heart, and they didn't question when he moved far away for university. Some things do work in his favour.

But without Oikawa, Iwaizumi doesn't feel like he has a place.

He doesn't want to go back home for the holidays. Every place is going to remind him of high school, he doesn't want to relive his memories. Of Oikawa laughing as he says yet another stupid thing; of himself punching Oikawa  _so many times_ , Issei and Takahiro laughing as they get up to more shit... it hurts to even think about it.

He just wants things to go back to how they were before. He doesn't want to be in love with his best friend, run away from him and  _hide_. He doesn't want to stay away from his other friends, he wants to be with them and have  _fun_  and be  _happy_. Why can't time be reversed? He doesn't want to be in love with Oikawa.

And distance  _hasn't_  lessened his feelings. He still stays up at night, thinking of Oikawa and chalking up the burning being his eyelids as strain from reading too much. He still reads stupid articles on the internet, which talk about how to get over your love when you know they're not your soulmate. And it doesn't do shit. Except for, you know, ruining his eyesight. Yeah. That.

If distance hasn't make the feelings go away, will tackling them headfirst make them disappear?

He spends more time thinking about it, and by the end of the night, he's somehow convinced himself to go back to Miyagi for the holidays.

Oikawa won't be back, he knows, because the setter always puts volleyball first. Iwaizumi will have Miyagi to himself, and he will get over his stupid feelings even if it kills him.

 

 

He’s been on this road many times, the cement under his feet familiar as he walks over it.

It’s a bridge; constructed above the narrow stream people generously call a river. It’s always brought him comfort, however narrow or unimpressive.

And it’s impressive in its own right, dark water shimmering in the cold, evening not yet set in and the sun casting light on it. It’s pretty, if Iwaizumi is honest. Which he’s not. He continues walking absently, noting the little details of nature that he'd never properly looked at.

“Oi!”

He looks away from the scenery to the person who called out, and stops, not believing his eyes for a moment. Of all people, he’d certainly not expected to see him in Miyagi. Though it makes sense, he  _does_  live here.

He stares back, fingers twisting in the pockets of his coat as he wonders what he’s walked into. He’s not comfortable with children, Takahiro’s teasing be damned, and by now he’s  _certainly_  not comfortable with Oikawa’s relatives seeing him and talking to him.

The boy waves, and continues in explanation, “You’re Tooru’s friend, aren’t you? Iwaizumi-san, the very great friend.”

 _Very great friend?_  Is that what Oikawa calls him? Well shit, he’s a terrible friend; not even worthy of the title of friend.

He nods hesitantly, then says, “And you’re his nephew.”

The boy smiles brightly, “The one and only!”

Oikawa Takeru.

The boy skips over from the other end of the bridge, and stops in front of him, looking up curiously. “Are you here alone?”

“Uh… Yeah?” He winces at the uncertainty dripping from his own words.

Takeru looks around. “There’s no one with you? Then why did you come back?”

 _‘Because I’m sad and lonely and I want to get over your uncle.’_  Not a good answer.

“Never mind, I don’t need to know. I just asked because I thought you’d come back with someone. A girlfriend or boyfriend, you know? Or even a friend.”

For God’s sake, this kid is scaring him with his piercing, perceptive gaze. It’s the same one that Oikawa used to level at their opponents, and for a moment he feels pinned under it, as if he’s seen through all the excuses Iwaizumi has made in the past few months; analysing-

Wait. No. Iwaizumi’s going crazy. Takeru is just a child, Iwaizumi isn’t even sure if he’s in his double digits. He’s smiling at him now, and Iwaizumi internally yells at himself for being so shaken up.

“Sorry, Tooru did say you’re not too outgoing. I might have gone too far there with my assumptions.”

Iwaizumi’s eye twitches. Not too outgoing? More like Oikawa dragged him everywhere and then he was too embarrassed to talk to people.

…And the habit persists even now, after he ran away from Oikawa and the setter also moved on. He’s completely pathetic and even a child knows it. He snorts, and looks out towards the river.

“It’s nice, isn’t it. Keeps going on even after all the crap it gets. Environmental pollution, it’s a problem, don’t you think?”

It’s like Takeru is deliberately choosing every word, finding the best course of action to embarrass him. He takes after Oikawa, Iwaizumi has to admit.

He decides to humour him. “Mh, people can’t deal with their own shit so they take it out on their surroundings.”

“You’re right. But forget about that. Let’s talk.”

There it is.

 _'We need to talk,’_  are words that he’s all too used to. He’s also very used to waving them off and not answering anything. But it’s different now. If he closes off, it’s going to look even more suspicious.

The boy comes closer to stand next to him, leaning his hands against the railing of the bridge, and looking down at the water.

“Tooru is an idiot.”

The words are unexpected, and Iwaizumi lets out a surprised snort. Takeru looks pleased.

“Did he really have to go so far away from home? I find it dumb, but my mother said it’s because he wants to branch out, or something. I don’t know. But I mean, you’re pretty far away too. His other friends are still in Miyagi. You all could have stayed and enrolled in a college together, and had fun. Tooru wouldn’t be so far away.” He pouts at the last bit, and Iwaizumi realises something.

“Do you… miss him?”

The boy looks at him, scandalised, but he’s also looking like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and  _yes_  he misses Oikawa. That’s oddly adorable, and Iwaizumi bites his lip to keep from laughing.

Knowing that he’s been figured out, Takeru quickly moves to discussing other things, and Iwaizumi listens to him dutifully, adding in his opinion every now and then. 

The day is heading into evening, judging by the grey that’s taking over the sky. Winter in Miyagi sometimes brought rain, and Iwaizumi doesn’t want to challenge the weather.

Takeru also seems satisfied now, having run out of things to say. “I’ll be going then! You be careful, and enjoy your stay!”

He turns around and runs off, Iwaizumi holding up his hand, bidding him goodbye. The boy reminds him of Oikawa from when he was younger. But there’s a maturity about him that he’d never noticed in Oikawa.

Perhaps, it’s because he himself was young back then. Unaware and ignorant.

 

 

Iwaizumi stands outside the building, breathing in deeply. It’s been too long since he’s been here.

Issei’s house is nearby, two streets across, and back in high school, he’d come with the other boy to this place from time to time.

It’s an old building, and someone’s converted one of the floors into a gym. Barely populated now, but people still drop by, and now Issei has a part-time job there. It probably doesn’t pay much, but Iwaizumi is envious of the independence that probably comes with having your own source of income.

The floor above the gym has an empty court, and it’s good when someone’s not in the mood to go all the way to Seijoh’s court to practice. (Yes, he’s aware of all the times Issei skipped out on team practice in their second year to do his individual one. It’s how they started hanging out.)

Realising how awkward he must look, standing outside and staring up, he pushes open the door, and walks inside. It’s still as old as it was months ago; nothing’s changed. He forgoes the old elevator in favour of the stairs, climbing two at a time. The gym on the third floor is still populated at this hour of the day, and he doesn’t look around. Issei’s day off is seeing him in the building again, but on a different floor. Iwaizumi reaches the fourth floor, and at the end of the corridor, he sees the double doors to the court. They’re open, and he can see Takahiro tossing a ball up into the air.

He walks with brisk steps, and finally leans against the door as he waits for his friends to notice him. They’re talking in low tones, then Issei says something and Takahiro snorts, slapping a hand on his arm, and Iwaizumi’s lips curl up.

At least they’re still the same.

Issei’s smirking, and about to say something else when he notices Iwaizumi. His facial expression doesn’t change, but his eyes betray his emotions, and Takahiro spins around.

“Iwaizumi!”

He jogs to the door, arms held out, and Iwaizumi ducks, thanking his height for once. He has nothing against displays of affection, but he’d rather not get a hug right now. He welcomes the vigorous pats on his back from Takahiro.

“You’ve not been around for so long! We thought you found some friends for yourself and weren’t coming back to us countryfolk anymore.”

Iwaizumi smiles wryly, because it’s the complete opposite.

“So?” Takahiro asks again, excitement clear in his voice. Iwaizumi tilts his head. “Where’s our idiot setter?”

Iwaizumi chokes on his spit, a tiny sound coming out of his throat that he hopes no one heard. “What about him?”

“Y'know, where is he?” Takahiro makes a show of looking around. “Didn’t he come with you?”

Of course not. His face darkens, and Issei speaks up for the first time. “He’s not come home for the holidays, Hiro.”

“What?” He turns around, “Iwaizumi, Oikawa isn’t coming back? Why not? Did you guys talk? He barely talks to us anymore!”

_But he still talks._

“How much?” Iwaizumi’s voice is faint even to his own ears.

“How much- what? How much we talk? Like, once a week, probably? But we mostly talk about volleyball and our teams.”

_Oikawa doesn’t talk to Iwaizumi at all now._

Not since the first few weeks of university, when he’d call him up every night and blabber on. Iwaizumi had snapped at him once, and since then their conversation dwindled and dwindled till it was only one or two text messages a month.

It’s his own fault, obviously. His fault for being so stingy and weak that he needs to cut all contact with his friend. And even then he’s in love. How dumb.

“So, he’s not coming?”

“Y-yeah, no, he’s not. I don’t know, I didn’t ask.”

Takahiro frowns, opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, and Iwaizumi pleads with the gods to not make him ask anything else. Then the other wing spiker shuts his mouth, and and blinks. “It’s okay, at least you’re here. Mind playing a bit?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind anything as long as he doesn’t have to answer any difficult questions.

Takahiro decides to act as the setter, and he sends tosses to Iwaizumi while Issei tries to block. It’s fun, reminds him of when they used to play together, and Iwaizumi has mostly calmed down.

And then Takahiro proceeds to talk about how the college is, about how Issei always turns up to the morning classes but sleeps straight through them, and Iwaizumi’s heart aches. He could have had it too, with Oikawa, if he hadn’t fallen in love and decided to choose a different university.

Getting out of Miyagi was necessary, or Oikawa would whine and want to stay too, but did Iwaizumi really have to go off so far, isolated from all of his friends? He’s such an idiot.

“Why don’t you and Oikawa meet up sometime?”  _Again_.

But this time, Iwaizumi is prepared, and he schools his features into nonchalance as he answers, “We’re too far away.” It’s a rehearsed explanation, one he’s sure to give many times over his time in Miyagi.

“Yeah, but you  _could_  afford to meet up. If Issei and I were in different places, we’d make sure we got to hang out.”

“But that doesn’t matter because you  _are_  in the same place.” Iwaizumi counters.

“Mh, can’t argue with his logic, Hiro.”

“Hey, shut up and go back to being a silent spirit.”

Issei smirks, and then makes a joke about sharing an apartment and being all up in each other’s business, to which Takahiro sputters. Iwaizumi tunes them out again.

Dammit. He wants an apartment with Oikawa.

 

 

Coming here was a bad decision,  _everything_ reminds him of the setter.

He’s tired now, and he wants to go back home. His father’s probably back from his workplace, he’d like to spend some time with him. He’s roamed around enough for the day.

He trudges off for home, and when he reaches, he spies his dad’s shoes by the door.

He calls out his arrival, a habit from his younger days even though he’s not sure if his father can hear.

The elder Iwaizumi is reclining on a couch, beer in hand and watching a dumb clichéd soap opera. He tilts his head and watches silently as his son crosses the threshold and enters, then promptly calls, “Hajime, my precious baby!”

His face goes up in flames at the familiar greeting, and he stammers out, “Dad! I’m going to turn nineteen next year, I’m not a baby anymore!”

“No, you’re always going to be my baby, can’t change that.”

He huffs, but doesn’t reply. His father’s quite open with affection, and Iwaizumi doesn’t mind. He just gets a bit more open about it when he’s drunk, like calling a grown adult a baby. It’s okay, though, it’s one of his few habits that haven’t changed since he separated from his soulmate, and Iwaizumi’s secretly glad.

His choice of entertainment is not something Iwaizumi approves of, and he makes it clear. “Can you at least watch something good, Dad?”

“Eh? Oh, this? It’s the only interesting thing that was on right now. Everything else is too dull for my tastes.”

 _Like the existence of soulmates._  Iwaizumi refrains from saying something upsetting. His father is patting the space next to him now, and Iwaizumi looks around the room. There’s nothing that can occupy his attention. Sighing, he walks over to the proffered seat, and plops down on it.

He can feel his father’s eyes on the side of his face, but he says nothing, staring at the grain of the table in front of him, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Eventually, he turns, “What?”

His father shakes his head, smiling, “Nothing, just seeing how much you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

“Eight months.” he says, guilt creeping up at the admission of how long he’s been avoiding everyone.

“So you did count! I was afraid my son didn’t care anymore.” When he wipes at his eyes, flicking off imaginary tears, Iwaizumi groans. The television is  _not_  meant for learning dumb things. He leans back into the couch, eyes sliding shut as his father takes another gulp of his beer.

Moments later, he opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. His father is also looking upwards now, having muted the television after his show ended.

“Hanako-san needs some extra hands at her restaurant in the coming week.”

Ah, his ‘girlfriend.’ The woman he’s been seeing for almost a decade. Iwaizumi’s honestly not sure why they haven’t just married by now. Doesn’t matter to him, though, so he doesn’t question it.

“Will you come help out, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi hums, not answering. He doesn’t mind, he’d just keep roaming around town like a lost soul anyway, but he’s not too sure if he wants to tie himself down to a week’s worth of work without giving it a thought.

“Did I ever tell you why we decided to give it a go?”

He blinks, sitting up a bit and tilting his head. He levels a questioning stare at his father, who has a faint smile playing at his lips. For the first time that day, he looks incredibly awake, out of the haze he’d been in. Yet as he stares at the wall, Iwaizumi can tell he’s lost in thought, not sparing his son a glance.

“Yeah?” he prods, voice soft, hoping he doesn’t close off like he always has when it comes to his own matters. Iwaizumi’s father’s pretty caring, doing his best to make others happy, but he always overlooks his own happiness; avoids letting others comfort him.

“Back when I first met her, she had around three-hundred-and-fifteen thousand hours left. A little less than thirty-six years. Do you know what that means, Hajime? As of now, she still has more than twenty-five years left before her soulmate realises.”

He turns to his son, who looks at him wordlessly.

“She’s not going to spend her life waiting for someone who might not even be worth it.”

Iwaizumi breathes, exhales. “So she doesn’t care about soulmates either.”

“No. Quite the opposite. She does care, a lot. But she’s pursuing a relationship with me because she and her soulmate both deserve to live their life to the fullest. It’s not about soulmates not being worth it, it’s about  _you_  being worthy as a person. You are so much more than just your timer, you deserve to live and love yourself as much as you’ll one day love your soulmate.”

Iwaizumi’s nose scrunches up, an expression of  _something_  flitting across his face, and his father catches on. “Hajime. This is about your mother, isn’t it?”

“Wha- I-  _No!_ ” He hates talking about her, he doesn’t want to talk about her. She’s not  _his mother_ , she’s  _his father’s soulmate who left them._

“Hajime,” his father moves to rest his hand on his head, but Iwaizumi ducks away. It hands on his shoulder, and he resists the urge to shake it off. “Your mother is not at fault for anything. You need to stop blaming her for leaving, and you need to stop hating soulmates.”

He stares pointedly at the table, but he can’t stop the words from coming out, “Why? Why don’t you care? Why aren’t you angry that she left? Why did you  _let_  her go? And why do you still pretend to care about people who gush over stupid romantic shit? You’re doing just fine without your  _soulmate_ , the world can handle it too. No one needs a soulmate. It’s just a way to tie someone down to yourself and shackling them up till their freedom rests solely in your hands. It’s pathetic.”

His father’s undying patience is really being helpful right now, Iwaizumi thinks, because he’s being an absolute dick and the elder man is still not getting fed up.  He lets him speak till he’s breathing heavily, run out of words, throat dry and hurting. And then he responds.

“Her love for him was just stronger than her love for me. And that’s okay, she couldn’t help it. There was a time when she loved me more than anyone in the world. And I cherish that time. But your mother had always been volatile. With time, her love for me just faded away to second place. That has nothing to do with soulmates. Which is why I let her leave. There was someone she loved more than me, and I had to respect that. Not as her soulmate, but as someone who’d known her his whole life, someone who’d been her best friend once. I can’t explain  _why_ , Hajime. Human emotions aren’t something I’m too fluent in. That was more of your mother’s forte.”

He waits a beat, then continues, “And it may look to you that I was fine, but I was not. It took me years to get over it, I just didn’t show it. And you know that it wasn’t a day’s work to fall for Hanako-san. It wasn’t as if I looked at her one day and forgot your mother.”

"But she was your _soulmate_." It's an effort to get the upper hand in the conversation, and even to his own ears he sounds weak.

"Everyone has different understanding of love. Your love is going to be different from your friends', mine, our neighbours', or anyone. The only one with your kind of love is a soulmate. She's happy without me, I'm happy without her. See? Soulmates."

Iwaizumi doesn’t reply.

“Soulmates aren’t the problem here, Hajime. It’s about individual compatibility.”

“But you’re supposed to be  _compatible_  with your soulmate, Dad. That’s how it works.”

His father gives a half-smile. “That’s how they  _say_ it works. And if you’re lucky enough to be compatible with your soulmate, it’s one of the best things in the world.”

He gets up, off the couch, taking his now empty bottle with him. “Think about it. A person who knows you better than you could imagine, someone to spend time with you and love you for who you are. Someone who’s going to stay by you no matter what. That’s the essence of a soulmate." 

Iwaizumi nods dumbly, still staring at the table. His father walks out of the room.

And he doesn’t come back, but Iwaizumi doesn’t realise. He’s not even aware of the time anymore. His thoughts are only occupied by one thing. Or person, rather.

Someone who knows him better than he himself does; someone who’s always been with him (barring the past few months); someone who has loved him and stayed by him. There’s only one person in his life that fits those requirements.

Oikawa Tooru.

 

 

He’s barely slept for three nights. His father’s words still ring in his ears late at night, and as a result, he spends hours thinking instead of sleeping.

He also remembers the short conversation he’d had with his father before going to bed the first night. He’d asked him about his timer and Iwaizumi had awkwardly said that he didn’t remember, but had two more years before his soulmate realised.

_"It was around sixty-thousand hours in junior high, after that practice match with Chidoriyama. So I probably have two years left, right?”_

His father had given him an odd look, asking if he was sure, and he’d nodded. After all, Oikawa had said so.

The thing is, he doesn’t actually know what his timer says.

The day she left, right before she walked out of their house, his… his  _mother_  had bent down to where he was standing, still processing that she would never come back. She’d put her fingers up to her lips, then pressed them down where his timer was, separated by his shirt.

After that, he never looked.

And now he’s actually curious. But he’s also stubbornly aware of how against everything he was till a few days back. How shameful would it be for him to abandon that just because of one conversation with his father? He can imagine how amused Oikawa would be.

Oikawa…

What about his timer?

Heck, he should not be thinking of this.

He huffs, rubbing at his face and turning to his side. He clenches his eyes shut, wishing he’d just fall asleep. His father roped him into helping out at Hanako-san’s restaurant, and he doesn’t want to pass out from exhaustion anytime soon.

 

 

The restaurant has been especially crowded since morning - who knew there would be so many customers even in winter - and Iwaizumi is  _dead_  by now. He needs to breathe fresh air before he can continue. The customers are loud; happy to be with their loved ones for the holiday, and it’s a bit sickening to see couples. But that’s just his jealousy speaking, and he’s the tiniest bit amused at himself.

His father’s waiting at the tables so effortlessly it’s as if he’s always worked there, and Hanako-san is adoringly staring at him from the other end of the room, occasionally ignoring her customers in favour of making heart eyes at the man.

He calls out that he’s taking a break, and the cook nods at him, smiling and thanking him for all his help. He may be agonising over the crush that he came here to forget, but he will  _not_  do a half-assed job.

Outside, clouds of mist dart by, the air crisp. It’s a contrast to the stuffy, humid air inside the restaurant, and he gulps it down eagerly. Watching the passers-by go down the road, laughing with their friends, he wishes his own friends were here. Issei and Takahiro, Oikawa, the Seijoh team.

People are giving him weird looks, and he doesn’t want to go back inside. So he decides to take a walk. The break can be as long as he wants if he makes up for it later, right? And the rush  _has_  slowed down since morning so there won’t be much inconvenience.  

He’s walking aimlessly, staring at the things around him when a voice he recognises very well calls out, “Hey, hey, Iwaizumi-san!”

Eyes wide, he turns back, expecting it to be a figment of his imagination, but there he is, right in the flesh. The person who was not supposed to be here. Oikawa Tooru.

And the setter is crouched on the floor, behind his nephew, hands up in front of his face as if to hide. He looks incredibly stupid, flinching when Iwaizumi’s eyes land on him.

Iwaizumi curses the day he decided to come back for the holidays. He curses the day he had that heart-to-heart with his father. He curses himself for being an idiot. Because maybe, just maybe, this was exactly why he came back to Miyagi. In a corner of his heart, he’d held onto the hope that the setter would be back.

They just stare at each other for some time. Oikawa, looking up at him from the corner of his eye, the epitome of fear, and Iwaizumi, expressionless save for his wide eyes.

Finally, he opens his mouth. “Why are you here?” Ah, yes, the most important question.

Oikawa trembles, “I-Iwa-chan! Hi! What are you doing here?”

“I asked you that first, idiot.”

“I- uh, holidays? I have a few days off, and I decided to come back here to meet y- everyone…”

So Oikawa caredsa lot about everyone. Maybe he just didn’t know Iwaizumi was going to be here. If he’d known, he probably wouldn’t have come. “When did you get here?”

“Five hours ago.”

Ah, and Takeru still failed to tell him not to come.

Wait, no, Iwaizumi is being dumb. Of course Oikawa doesn’t care if Iwaizumi is there or not. Heck, he probably came because he knew he could corner Iwaizumi. He still asks. “Did Takeru not tell you I would be here?”

“I did! But turns out Hanamaki-san also told Tooru.” The boy chimes in, and Oikawa looks mortified.

“You knew and you still came?”

Oikawa’s looking at him oddly now. “Iwa-chan, why wouldn’t I come if I knew you were here too?”

“Uh…” he tries to think of a reason, and finds one easily. “Because you were literally hiding behind your nephew just now.”

“Oh,” Takeru says, and Oikawa starts yelling, but the boy is still clear enough, “that’s because he was following you and being a stalker.”

Heck, he should not be feeling happy about being ‘stalked’ by an idiot setter. But his lips are twitching now at the scene in front of him, Oikawa red-faced and pouting, and Takeru whistling like the most innocent person on the planet.

“But, you know,” Iwaizumi says, wondering if he should say it. To hell with it, though. “You care so much about volleyball. Why didn’t you stay there for the holidays and practice more? With Kuroo and Bokuto and the-” he backtracks, having almost blurted out about that other, random guy from the photo, “the rest of your teammates.”

Oikawa looks off to the side, eyes flitting about, alight with emotions, and then he finally looks back at Iwaizumi. “Because it stopped being something I loved.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow.

Oikawa sighs. “It’s not fun without you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, disbelief colouring his features and Oikawa makes an affronted sound, “What? Did you think I wouldn’t care anymore just because we’re in different universities? Rude, Iwa-chan, you thought so little of me.”

“I mean… I’m not your ace anymore.”

“I don’t care! It’s not fun without Iwa-chan! I went on because I always thought you’d be by my side, and now you’re gone and I can’t do it; I can’t just adjust to a new spiker after being with you for so long!”

 _Lies._  They’re all lies. Oikawa is spectacular, he can set to  _anyone_ , he’s not Kageyama who can only set to the shrimp. If he wanted, he damn well could set to frickin’ Ushiwaka. He says as much, and Oikawa looks frustrated, unable to get his point across.

“Iwa-chan, I’m good because everyone  _allowed_  me to be so. You helped me become the person I am now. We’ve known each other for almost seven years now, and six of those years were spent playing volleyball with you. You didn’t lose faith in me even when I myself was close to breaking. Did- did you know, did you ever realise, that our last match in Kitagawa Daiichi had me convinced I sucked?”

Iwaizumi remembers it. Oikawa had looked at him, eyes hollow as he told him to keep quiet. And something had broken in those eyes because he’d cried the next moment. Oikawa, who didn’t cry when Kageyama became better than him. Oikawa, who didn’t cry when his knee started hurting, who went on with that knee for years. That was the one time he’d seen Oikawa cry with such raw emotions. Matches against Shiratorizawa or Karasuno didn’t count, Oikawa was  _restrained_  after those.

“But you-  _you_  were the one who told me it was okay, and stayed with me, and went and made the shit excuse that I had a bad stomach. That was such a good pun, right? Anyway. You were the only one who helped me up, Iwa-chan. How could I want to play with anyone but you?”

Play, play, play. All he cares about is volleyball. But because this is about volleyball, Iwaizumi can say what’s been haunting him for months, without giving away his feelings.

“I couldn’t play either. I was going to sign up. I had my form ready. And then I couldn’t give it. It’s  not fun without you either, Kusokawa.” The last word comes out softly, almost lovingly, and Iwaizumi shuts his eyes, not wanting to see Oikawa’s expression. He tried to stop calling him by names other than 'Oikawa,’ and yet here he is, back to his nicknames for the setter.

“Oh, no, Iwa-chan, you don’t play anymore?”

“Idiot, I told you already when you called after the first week.” Iwaizumi remembers that conversation. He was still not at terms with the fact that he couldn’t - wouldn’t - see Oikawa again, and he’d hastily replied and tried to change the topic.

“I thought you were just saying that so I’d stop prying! I didn’t know you were serious!” Oikawa says, looking immensely sad. Iwaizumi just shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter now. Point is, I don’t play.” He’d have said more, except Oikawa sneezes. Loudly.

“Gross, Tooru. I hope you covered your face.” Takeru, who’d been hanging off a rod and ignoring them till now, gives his opinion.

“Shut up! I did, I have manners, you know?” Takeru gives him a pointed look, and Oikawa pouts again. It’s annoying how cute Iwaizumi finds him. Turning away, he busies himself with shucking off his jacket, trying to will away the dusting of red from his cheeks.

He holds his hand out, not looking at Oikawa, and says, “Here you go. I’ll go back to work, it’s warm there. Put this on and don’t fall sick, idiot. You can handle broken bones but not a cold.”

“Iwa-chan! You-” and Oikawa trails off. Takeru coughs, and it sounds suspiciously like a laugh.  _Dammit_ , observant brat.

“It’s warm enough in the restaurant. The, uh, place where I’m helping out right now. You know Hanako-san, right? Hers.” He doesn’t know if he’s already told him about it, he can’t remember anything after looking at Oikawa’s face for more than five seconds.

“But you’re just wearing a shirt! You’ll freeze.”

“I won’t. I’m  _working_ , that keeps me warm enough as it is.” He waves away further complaints, and then turns. “I gotta go. It’s getting late.” It’s not; he’s just freaking out about his sad crush. “I need to work.” No, he just needs to hide away and yell into a wall about how gorgeous Oikawa is. How did he never notice the colour of his eyes in the sunlight? It’s literally as if there’s fire in his eyes. And his voice, that smooth tone which makes Iwaizumi want to melt.

Why?

Is this what being in love is? Finding the stupidest metaphors for one’s love?

He needs to  _go back_.

Like always, he flees.

 

 

He’s jogged off now, and Oikawa’s staring at his friend’s back. There’s an incredibly dopey smile on his face, he knows that, and he knows that Takeru knows it too, judging by the way the boy’s smirking at him. He turns to him, intending to scold him, but ends up giggling.

“God, Tooru, you’re such an idiot. How lovestruck can you be?”

“Hey, you don’t have to say it!” Oikawa frowns, because  _yes_  he knows he’s completely head over heels for his friend, and  _no_  he doesn’t need it rubbed in his face. It’s bad enough that Iwaizumi was being- being-  _ugh_ , did he have to be so  _handsome?!_  It made him blush and want to hide his face.

Thinking of him stripping out of his jacket, and handing it to Oikawa; it was like a scene out of a romance movie, and it made him want to yell to the skies about how unfair life was.

Why couldn’t he actually have Iwa-chan be his soulmate? Why couldn’t they be gross and hold hands and cuddle and have Makki and Mattsun call out 'ew’ in unison? Okay, PDA was probably not the spiker’s thing, but at least in  _private_ they could do all that…

He sighs for the umpteenth time, cursing at his luck for falling for the one person who didn’t believe in soulmates, and Takeru imitates him.

“Seriously, though, Tooru,” the boy says, “he hates soulmates, he doesn’t hate  _love_ , does he? And he doesn’t hate you either. Why don’t you just tell him and move on? Maybe he’d like you back and ask to date you!”

His eyes snap to his nephew, “That’s not gonna happen. One day he’s going to fall in love with a cute person, and he’s going to wish they were his soulmate. And someone’s eventually going to fall for him and his timer will run out and-”

“Hasn’t that already happened?”

He stares at Takeru. The boy stares back.

“No.”

“Uh, yeah, it has? Didn’t you see it, Tooru? Through his extremely flimsy shirt that’s not suitable for this weather at all. Warm restaurant be damned. And before you scold me about language- you used to say much, much worse at my age. Anyway, didn’t you see the zeros and the tattoo?”

“You’re wrong,” Oikawa says, laughing a bit. “Iwa-chan doesn’t check his timer, but even he’d realise if ink randomly sprouted on his body. And he’d tell me if he did. Anyway, back when I saw it in junior high, he had a long way to go. I’m pretty sure it’s not run out yet.”

“What if it has and he didn’t tell you?”

“Not possible.”

“Tooru.” Takeru says, and Oikawa’s beginning to grow cold at how sympathetic he sounds, “You believe he trusts you the most in the world, because you trust him the most. But that’s not how the world works. He might just have refrained from telling you this even if he knew.”

Wow, he’s getting life lessons from a kid half his age now. He goes to say so, but Takeru continues, “Besides, you didn’t tell him about your timer either, did you?”

He bites the inside of his cheek. His own timer, yeah. The one that went to zero in September last year. Which he still hasn’t told Iwaizumi about. Oops?

“I can’t.” He snorts, “How can I tell the love of my life that I have a soulmate out there waiting for me? That’s messed up.”

“Why not? Is it because he would encourage you to pursue whoever it could be? Is it because he’d stop seeing you as a potential love interest - assuming he ever did? Why didn’t you tell him?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t.”

“What if he already knows? When did you say it ran out?”

“Last September. He would have said something.”

“What if he  _avoided_  you after that?”

Oikawa thinks back to it. The time he almost told Makki, and Iwaizumi walked in. He’d vowed to not tell anyone after that, keeping it to himself. But Iwaizumi had given him an extremely weird look, and since then, he’d got distant. It was the start of the crumbling down of their friendship.

“Oh my god. I… I think… he knew.” He’s looking at Takeru helplessly now, trying to stop the thoughts from bombarding him, and the boy lets out an exasperated sound.

“Tooru, gosh. What if he was skittish because he was in love with you? What if  _he fell in love with you_? What if he fell for you and your timer ran out at the same time? What if he’s your  _soulmate_?”

Iwa-chan; Oikawa’s soulmate.

No way. Not possible.

“His soulmate isn’t someone like me.” He doesn’t want to say it, but it’s true. “He deserves better than a nagging dolt.”

Takeru rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know you were aware of that, Tooru, but I also didn’t know you were such a self-deprecating person.”

“Come on! You just have to ask him about his timer. You don’t even have to talk about yours. Just tell him I said it’s run out, or something.”

“But it’s  _not_. It had sixty-thousand hours when I saw it. Those haven’t passed yet.”

“Tooru.” The expression on Takeru’s face makes him look like his mother. “You keep reading out the wrong numbers half the time because of your stupid eyes. Who’s to say it wasn’t six thousand? That would make it run out a long time ago.”

“But how could I mess up Iwa-chan’s timer? That’s stupid!”

“Mhm, like you.”

And he tries to picture it. He still remembers it, like something out of his favourite movie.

_60000-3–5._

He doesn’t remember some of the digits, but he remembers the main part. Sixty-thousand. There’s so much time before it ticks down, and one day, it’ll rest at 00:00:00.00, and Iwa-chan will probably be with the love if his life. It makes a lump form in his throat, remembering his own timer, how he desperately wished that night that it’d been because of Iwa-chan.

“Tooru, when did you realise you loved him?”

Oikawa flushes. It’s such sensitive information, why does he need to divulge it? And to his nephew, no less?

But the look that he’s getting from the kid right now prompts him to answer the question, voice shaking. “The last match in junior high. After it. He was, uh, nice to me. And I realised he was the most important person in the world to me by then. It… he. He was so- so amazing. He did his best during that match, spiked every toss I sent his way with such precision, received the ball so well, he was the epitome of perfection. And I ruined it. I cost us our match, and he still didn’t hate me. He came to me and comforted me and lied to the team for me. And-”

Takeru holds up a hand and cuts him off. “What was the date, Tooru?”

How can he ever forget that day?

“Halfway through October.” He doesn’t want to tell him the exact date.

“When did you see his tattoo?”

 _The ninth of the second month._  It was when he’d first gone home and blushed about how cute Iwa-chan looked. “Sometime in February, the same year. We were still second years then, though.”

“I can’t tell you the exact time. But-” and he holds out his hand, “Phone, please.”

Oikawa hands it over, watching for any suspicious activity. But Takeru only pulls up the calculator, punching in random numbers.

 _8 x 30. 240._  
_240 + 15. 255.  
_ _255 x 24. 6120._

“Tooru, honestly, what was the damn time in Feb?”

Oikawa sticks out his bottom lip, but answers anyway, “Second week.”

“Okay.”  _7 x 24. 168.  
__6120 - 168. 5952._

And then he wordlessly passes the phone back to Oikawa, and the older boy looks at the screen, trying to make sense of the digits. “What is this for?”

Another rolling of his eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”

“God, I really don’t know, okay? I should tell your mother about how rude you are.”

“Oh, yeah? And I should tell her that her brother is a lovesick fool, who’s also really bad at math! Work it out! 5952 is really close to six thousand. And if you mixed up a few digits it could definitely be the wrong time! Are you  _sure_  it was- no, never mind. What were the first few digits of his timer?”

“Six, and four zeros. I’m confident about that.”

A smile spreads across Takeru’s face, and Oikawa’s instincts tell him to  _run_. “Then all you need to do is ask.”

His next words almost make Oikawa’s soul leave his body.

“All you have to do now is go ask Iwaizumi-san if his timer is at zero or not. If it’s not, then I’m wrong, and he still has a lot to go. If it  _has_  ticked down, then I’m  _right_  and  _you’re the reason._ ”

“Takeru,  _no_.”

“On the contrary, yes.*

This is too much to process. He’s going to yell. Or cry.

"Tooru, go for it. Play it off as your idiocy if it’s not true. And I’m sorry if it’s not, but the what-if is worth trying. And trust me, I know what I saw. He had a tattoo. By my calculations, he’s already got a soulmate, his timer went down around the time you fell in love with him. Your own timer ticked to zero and then he started avoiding you. It’s like you’re each other’s. The odds are too much in your favour here.”

And Takeru pushes him on the back, small hand steadying his uncle as he encourages him to  _try_ , if nothing else.

 

  

It’s evening, Iwaizumi’s hiding in the restaurant, and cringing every time his father and Hanako-san act too cute. The woman notices him, winks, and smiles even wider at the elder Iwaizumi, who is soaking up the attention like a sponge.

Oh god. Why are they flirting in front of him? “Dad,  _stop_.” he says under his breath, and is mortified when he’s louder than expected.

“Aw, Hajime~ are you feeling lonely, with no one to talk to you? Why don’t you take another break and go outside, get some fresh air and feel a bit better? We’ll stay here and have f- a discussion. On today’s sales.” his father says, and he rolls his eyes at the excuse.

“Hajime-kun, it’s actually okay, you can finish up your work and even leave now. Any other customers that come will be dealt with by my staff. You go and enjoy your time outside.” Hanako-san’s incredibly nice, and he feels obliged to listen to her just to make her smile more. She’s a sweet woman, and she makes his dad happy too.

He nods, putting away the rag that he’s been using to wipe the counter, and then goes inside, towards the staff’s room. He realises he can actually go out through the front doors too, and so walks back out, ignoring the sickeningly sweet couple, and then he’s out of the restaurant.

He finds the reason for the lack of customers soon enough. There, leaning against the wall is a boy bundled up in his jacket, sniffling and staring right at him.

_“Oikawa?”_  he asks, dread pooling in his stomach. People are giving the setter weird looks, and he off-handedly notes that he’s definitely why the restaurant has less people now.

“Iwa-chan!” he moves away from the wall, standing up straight and breathing in, a shudder running through him. The demon on Iwaizumi’s shoulder tells him to provide for him a scarf as well.

“Iwa-chan, we need to talk about your timer.” Oikawa flinches right when he says the words, and Iwaizumi feels that he didn’t really mean to say it. Never mind, because  _what the actual fuck?_  He is  _not_  going to have this conversation with him.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, and Oikawa’s face falls. “Please! It’s absolutely urgent.”

What about his timer is ‘urgent?’ And why does it concern Oikawa? And why is this happening so soon after his conversation with his dad? The whole universe is in need of some amusement and Iwaizumi seems to provide it excellently.

And then Oikawa starts saying something about mistakes and numbers, and Iwaizumi  _really_  doesn’t understand what four and three zeros have to do with him. He holds up a hand, “Didn’t you say it was sixty-thousand hours? Is this about minutes?”

Oikawa looks surprised that he hasn’t completely shot him down yet, and clarifies, “I made a mistake.”

“The mistake of existing? Yes, you did.” Iwaizumi nods.

“No, not that.” Oikawa says, ignoring Iwaizumi’s jab for once. Weird. “I didn’t see properly. And you’re not funny, Iwa-chan. The thing is, when I saw your timer in our second year of Kitagawa Daiichi, I misread it. It wasn’t sixty-thousand hours.”

“Forget about my timer, what about yours?” Iwaizumi says, trying to change the topic. Oikawa looks surprised again. Maybe because he’s never bothered before.

“I- uh, it…” he shifts guiltily, and Iwaizumi’s eyes bore into him. “It… ran out.”

“What.” It’s not even a question.

“My, ah, timer. Ticked down. To zero, I mean.” Oikawa says, hand coming up to tug at his hair nervously.

“When.” Again, more of a statement.

“…Last year?”

Iwaizumi breathes in, breathes out. Counts down from ten to one. Closes his eyes and reopens them.

Reality doesn’t change, and neither does Oikawa’s claim.

“Kusokawa. Your timer ticked down last year. And I’m finding out about this now.” He finally meets the setter’s eyes. Clear as day, the betrayal is there.

“You always hated the concept of soulmates, how could I tell you? And it was in September! You started avoiding me like the plague after that! How could I? And didn’t you already know? That’s why you avoided me, right? Takeru’s saying weird stuff but that’s exactly what happened!”

“I knew?  _I knew?_  Where in the world did you get that idea from? You didn’t tell me because you thought I knew? Oikawa, what the hell? That’s like- like, me never telling you two years from now because  _you already know_  about my timer. And heck, that would actually be a valid reason in my case. And saying that you didn’t tell me because I hated soulmates-” Iwaizumi’s getting riled up now, voice rising as his fingers curl against his palm, nails digging against it, “- is such a goddamn stupid reason! Like Takahiro never talked about his timer! Like Issei never joked about getting tattoos everywhere just to hide his soulmate tattoo! I don’t like soulmates, but you’ve always prattled on about them, so  _why_ wouldn’t you tell me when  _your timer ran out?!_ ”

“Iwa-ch-”

“ _No_ , we’re supposed to be friends, Oikawa. You have to tell me about such shit. Doesn’t matter if I care about it or not.”  _You’ve always done that anyway._  “Why  _now?_  Why would you not tell me about this of all things?” His voice cracks, breaking off and showing just how weak he is, and he hates it.

“ _Iwa-chan_ , listen to me. I didn’t-  _couldn’t_  tell you. I could never tell you.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because I- because… I. I couldn’t.”

“Why not, Oikawa?” he goes from loud to soft, words ending dangerously with a hiss.

The setter reaches forward and grips his wrist, and Iwaizumi tries to break free, because he does not want to deal with emotional shit like this, where Oikawa convinces him with his guilty tone and pleading eyes. This isn’t even the right place; people around them observing them through their peripheral vision even as they go about their business. Does Oikawa have no tact? Probably. He’s angry at the setter for causing a scene, and at himself for reacting to it so strongly.

“Iwa-chan, can we  _please_  talk about one thing before I tell you?” The spiker narrows his eyes, nodding imperceptibly. Anything to keep the setter from throwing a tantrum and causing more drama.

“Your timer. It’s at zero.”

Uh, did they have the same timer? Last he checked, nope. Not that he’s checked in a long time.

He inhales and exhales. It’s like dealing with a child. “Okay, you know what, you saw it back in junior high, and I couldn’t do anything about it. And I didn’t care. And I couldn’t even stop you from telling me what it said. But I remember what you said, and going by that, no, it’s not at zero. Weren’t you the one who told me it was at sixty-thousand or something?  _Have you forgotten?_ ”

“Iwa-chan, I’m being honest right now. Takeru said so, it is at zero. And I need to know now. And how can you just take the words of a thirteen year old to be true? Maybe I was wrong and it wasn’t sixty-thousand, but something else. Like six thousand.” Oikawa says in one go. It sounds rehearsed.

“What makes you say it was six-thousand?”

“It was Takeru. Before you tell me off for believing ‘anything a child says,’ he makes a good point. I can’t tell you what it is till you show me your timer, but believe me, it’s credible.”

Shit, was the kid actually analysing him back when they’d had that conversation? He shouldn’t have been so open with him. Dammit. What if the reason that Oikawa is talking about, is his big fat heart-boner for the setter? What if Takeru knows about that and just wants him to die from the shame?

“Oikawa, you know I can’t show you my timer, right? At least not here in front of the whole world?” He says, face flushed red. He’s not going to strip on a busy street, Oikawa’s pleading won’t change that.

“Then- Iwa-chan! Can we go inside? Your father won’t mind, right?” At Iwaizumi’s flat look, he giggles nervously, “I might have peeked in through the window.”

Jesus.

Iwaizumi reaches forward, having regained possession of his wrist during their conversation, and smacks Oikawa’s shoulder. Then he pulls the setter in with him, reopening the door and going straight to the room at the back, ignoring his father’s surprised greeting to Oikawa.

Once in the room, he switches on the dimmest light, then crosses his arms, glaring at the setter.

“You’ll tell me about your timer as well. And the tattoo.” He knows he’s being completely unreasonable. And he knows he’s supposed to hate it. But he’s so tired of hiding it, ignoring it, pretending it doesn’t exist as if that’ll make it go away. Closure is good, right?

It’s just… if he doesn’t care about soulmates, then he can love someone who’s not his soulmate, right? Leaving out the part about that someone being his best friend. So it’s okay to show said best friend his timer and ask to see his in return. It’s okay to come to terms with how his love is unrequited, and try to get over it by facing it. Right? Right.

He’s going to show Oikawa his timer, see his, tell himself it wouldn’t work out anyway because they’re best friends, and then he’ll do his best to encourage the setter in his quest to find his soulmate.

Iwaizumi grins at himself, pointedly ignoring the presence of another person in the room, who’s observing every creepy action of the spiker. They don’t call his pep talks godly for nothing.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Yes, you idiotic setter, I’m going to show you my timer, you can feast your eyes on the numbers, and then I’ll feast my eyes on your skin. Bearing the tattoo, I mean. And the zeros of your timer. Must be cool, heh. Let’s get to it.”

He pulls off his shirt - this is probably the last time he’s going to be able to do this in front of Oikawa - and tosses it somewhere. Telling himself to be a brave boi, he turns to face in the direction of the setter. Is it his imagination, or is Oikawa’s face red? Probably because he’s never been so fearless about undressing in front of the setter. Oh well. There’s a first for everything.

“There you go.”

And he stares up at the ceiling, making sure to not look at the setter. He won’t. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t.

“He was right.” Of course, how could Iwaizumi be wrong?

“Takeru…” Wait, what? “Iwa-chan, Takeru was right.”

He can’t resist meeting Oikawa’s eyes. They’re wide, trained on Iwaizumi, his focus rivalling that of the time he sets during an important game.

He also can’t resist looking down.

_00:00:00.00._

How?

He quietly locates his shirt, and walks out of the room. He finds his father, and says, “What should my timer have said?”

His father, caught up in talking to Hanako-san, responds lightly, “It was, hmm, quite an interesting number. 128456 hours. Cool, right?”

“How many years is that?”

“Uh, a little less than 15? I think? Your, er, mother was more into this.” He looks sheepish at the mention of his ex-wife.

Iwaizumi nods, then goes back in.

“It’s been at zero for more than three years already.” Is how he greets Oikawa. The setter, who’d been pacing around the room, perks up when he comes back.

“Oh, Iwa-chan, I am so relieved. I thought you left. Should I show you mine now? Also, wait, three years, what?”

“Show me yours.” It sounds oddly like they’re doing something with dirty connotations. Stop tjat train of thought right there, Iwaizumi Hajime.

Oikawa stares at him from under his eyelashes - damned pretty boy setter - and then slides off his pant.

Iwaizumi’s “What the  _fuck!_ ” is followed by Oikawa’s shrill, “I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” And the setter gestures to his thigh.

Oh. Timer. His timer is on his thigh.

He stares.

Like everything about the setter, his tattoo is gorgeous. Pretty little leaves, curling around as if propelled by an invisible wind. They’re adorning the skin next to his timer, shimmering with shades of brown and orange. It makes something twist in Iwaizumi’s heart. His own mark could have been there.

Regarding his own tattoo, he realises he didn’t even pay attention to it, choosing to put on his shirt and walk out like a zombie.

Tentatively, he lifts up his shirt again, looking at his side.

Droplets. They’re of various sizes, and the way some blue is scattered anout makes them look like they’re glistening; real.

“Whose favourite memory with me would be water?” He mutters.

“Whose favourite memory with me could be leaves, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa says, and the spiker turns to him. “You have to appreciate that someone loves you enough to have this kind of memory. It’s unusual. I know I love my mark. You should too.”

“Wise words don’t suit you at all, idiot.” He says, but a corner of his mouth is tilting up. “I hope your soulmate is nice.”

“I hope my soulmate is you.”

They stare at each other. Iwaizumi’s lips are slowly going back to a passive state, and Oikawa’s face is quickly gaining expression. He’s white as a sheet, and at the same time looks so embarrassed, Iwaizumi is distracted for a minute trying to catalogue his face.

Eventually, “You-”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Oikawa cuts him off. “How could I tell the one person I love the most that I had a soulmate somewhere? How could I tell you I spent the night wide awake wishing you were next to me and I was talking to you about anything and everything? And… and you hate soulmates. It was the only way I could hope to have you, by pretending I didn’t have one.”

_Pretending._  “Oikawa… someone out there loves you.” He can’t believe he’s sounding rational at a time like this, heart absolutely hurting and brain screaming at him to say something better.

“And what about you, Iwa-chan? What about you? Would you love me?  _No_. What’s wrong with me not saying anything about my timer and wishing you’d still look at me?”

“You- you fo-ool.” His voice cracks again, except this time he’s  _crying_  and good god why is he crying like a baby? “ _You_  we’re the one who was so hyped up over soulmates, Kusokawa. You were the fresh-faced idiot setter who couldn’t stop prattling on about those things.  _Why would you hide it?_ ”

“Because I love you, Iwa-chan.”

“Love me? No, that’s just something you think because I ran away from you and you didn’t have your friend anymore. You don’t love me the way you think you do. Y-”

He’s slammed to a wall, breath whooshing out of him and tears streaming down his face. “Iwa-chan,” the mean setter is back. “Iwa-chan, I’ve loved you since our last junior high match. Don’t think it’s a recent thing out of abandonment. My life isn’t a song where I realise I love you only after you go. And yeah, so you know that you ran?  _Why?_ ”

Iwaizumi gulps. He shouldn’t say it he shouldn’t say it he shouldn’t say it- “I realised I loved you.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t back off. Some of the meanness goes away, only to be replaced with determination. “When.”

“A- a few days after- after that incredibly stupid talk. The one where you talked about your fan club. I was thinking of it and the people in it and I…” he trails off, not wanting to admit to it.

“Yes? Oikawa prods.

"I thought about who and how your soulmate would be and accidentally hoped it was me.” There.

“Oh?” Oikawa comes even closer, if that’s even possĺble, and speaks, “You didn’t react to my confession.” When he sees the spiker’s blank face, he smirks, “You missed it, eh? Never mind, I’ll just tell you again. I love You, Iwa-chan.”

“We’re not soulmates.”

It’s the only thing he can think of, now. Oikawa is getting swept up, he’ll regret it later when he actually meets his soulmate. Someone out there deserves Oikawa’s love, and that’s not Iwaizumi.

“On the contrary,” the setter pauses dramatically, “You realised you loved me last September. My timer ran out. I realised I loved you after you comforted me when we lost to Chidoriyama. Your timer has been at zero for more than three years already, as you said, and it was almost six thousand hours after I saw your timer. If you add these two things up, Iwa-chan, there’s a very slim chance that we aren’t soulmates. Less than one percent.”

“But that one p-”

“Shush, Iwa-chan, we’ll deal with it after it happens. The odds are much greater in our favour.”

And then he closes the little bit of distance between them, and crashes their lips together.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> LEMA + EVERYONE ELSE, I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS. <3 *melts into wall*
> 
> ~~I... I wanna write a Matsuhana spin-off..... Plus another... ehe...~~
> 
> Also, I hope I satisfactorily explained the soulmate concept in this universe, but if anyone wants to know more, or I wasn't clear enough, don't hesitate to ask me. *sweats*


End file.
